Campfire
by ecto1B
Summary: It was an innocent question. Truly, it was. Can the noble Thorin Oakenshield smile? He's never smiled in her presence (well, he's never let her see). Maybe she could make him. Thorin/OC, written as a gift! SMUT


**Campfire**

A _Hobbit _fanfic by ecto1B/SouthernImagineer**  
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Pairings: Thorin/OC

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"Do you smile?"

It was odd, hearing a voice so small come from a darkness so grand. Her soft, rigidly human tone and manner of speak always caught him off-guard; Thorin was used to resonant words peeling from the lips of bushy dwarf lips. Was this why he hesitated in responding?

"Why would that be of any interest to you?" he grunted, striving to stick to his usually tight-lipped persona. In an effort to further drive this idea to her, he turned away.

Briley did not respond in the manner he expected. She was sitting near him by the fire, occasionally poking the flames with a stick and glancing at the snoozing dwarves nestled around the camp. When she did respond, Thorin was completely caught off guard.

"You've always interested me." The woman smiled to herself and looked away. "Ever since you dragged me and poor Bilbo into this mess, you've interested me." Her grin grew, traced with the light from the fire and illuminated by the waning moon above, and, as if alluding to her nostalgia, it continued to exist, right along with the story she began to tell. "I can remember it well, you know. Every little detail. Gandalf was first, of course, materializing at my doorstep one evening, just like he was for Bilbo. There was an adventure to be had, he said. He knew of my mother's copious exploits, and he hoped I'd be willing to have one of my own."

Thorin hadn't moved from his spot on the log, nor had he given Briley any indication that he was listening. He was, in fact, listening, though, and the very faintest kind of smile had appeared across his face when she went on.

"And then these _dwarves_ showed up!" She made sure to add emphasis without adding volume – something Thorin knew was a talent of hers. "I had never met a dwarf before… I was stunned and pretty embarrassed to find that I was just as short as most of them!" A laugh, slight in loudness but crowded in amusement slinked through the air. "And I got so much _crap_ for it, too! Fili and Kili _still_ won't let me live it down. An abnormally short human! You already know what they call me."

_Munchkin, _Thorin thought, inwardly sharing a chuckle. _She really does hate that name._

"Anyway, I think you know the rest of the little story." From her shadow, Thorin could see her turn to look at him, even while his back still faced her. "Happened much like what happened to the hobbit. Lots of singing and drinking… and lots of talk. Lots of discussion."

Thorin was stunned when her voice grew serious.

"Your home was taken," she stated quietly. "And that's why you interest me. You interest me because for so many years, no one did anything to get Erebor back. But _you're _getting it back. You want it back more than anyone. You're risking your life, the lives of these dwarves, Bilbo's life, Gandalf's life, _my _life… all to get your home back." At first, Thorin felt her words had been a direct insult, but she quickly turned it around. "You'll do anything to get it back. Absolutely anything. That amazes me."

Her shadow moved, and suddenly there was a tiny human hand on his shoulder. Instinctively, the corners of his mouth dropped.

He would not show her.

"That's why you interest me. That's why I want to know if you smile. Will you smile when we retake Erebor? Will you laugh when you see the mountains of gold, the gold destined for your people? Will you rejoice and pull each and every one of us into a fierce hug?"

Thorin said nothing.

"Okay." The hand left his shoulder, and the woman stood. She heaved a sigh, a sigh riddled with defeat. "I tried. I did my best."

"Wait."

Thorin Oakenshield stood, and Briley felt a shiver run down her spine. She _was_ short for a human, and he was tall for a dwarf. They were the same height. His dark eyes bored into hers. "I did not mean to upset you." He dipped his head. "You were not happy when we sought your company on this quest. What has sparked this change of heart? You have spoken ill of us and of our intentions ever since we left the Shire."

Briley visibly gulped and cast her eyes to the edge of the clearing, where Gandalf sat against a tree, the brim of his hat dipping over his face as he slept.

"I spoke with a certain wizard," she replied. "He told me a lot about you and the others." She refocused on Thorin. "I'm sorry for my griping. I really am." Pausing, she looked down and shuffled her boots in the grass. "It's hard, leaving home. Like Bilbo says… it's hard leaving your comfy chair, your books, your bed, your kitchen, for something as unpredictable as an adventure. But sometimes you just _have_ to leave. Sometimes there are others out there that need your help. _Your_ help, not someone else's. And sometimes," here, she cleared her throat, peeking up through her fallen strands of red to meet Thorin's noble gaze once more, "sometimes it's the right thing to do."

Thorin was, in all respects, an imposing, august, and rather taciturn dwarf prince. If he spoke his mind, it was to correct battle tactics or matters of regiment, never to communicate emotion. He would not degrade himself with petty matters of the heart. Thorin Oakenshield had to be tenacious and tough. Reliable and structured. Dauntless and confident. The fate of Erebor and his grandfather's hoarded treasure relied on him and his pack of companions. He could not be soft.

He could not help it.

Just as Thorin interested Briley, Briley had always interested him. Her head of flaming red hair and simple brown eyes seemed to trespass into every silent dream or daytime vision; her noisy, lively laugh was even enough to make him chuckle on the worst of days, in the worst stretches of road on their way to the Mountain. Of course, there were times she drove him mad, like recently, with the trolls. She and Bilbo just _had_ to get caught and endanger the entire group. And the remarks she had made not too long ago, the ones poking fun at his utter "majesty," had been derogatory, even if they had been mere jests made to entertain Kili and Fili.

Yet, through all of this, through all of the teasing and complains, Thorin knew his feelings toward the pint-sized human were very real, real enough for him to do something he hadn't done in years. Whether it was an instinct or a need, Thorin could not tell.

He could not help it.

One of his massive hands went to Briley's arm, and before Thorin could stop himself, it slid down the fabric of her shirt and found her fingers. There was no stopping the reflex as he squeezed, and certainly no use terminating the thoughts that loitered in his mind when he leaned forward and kissed her.

It was enough of a response – or, in this case, an acknowledgement of her apology – to satisfy Briley, for she kissed back and did not withdraw from his hold. With one hand still clutched within his, she slid her other one up the length of his armor; it weaved around his neck and remained there.

It was an amazing feeling.

Her kisses against him were bathed with gratitude, and soon, Thorin's were, as well. They became fiercer, like the dwarf himself, deeper, like the darkness around them, and somewhat eager, as if their balance had suddenly become evenly weighted.

"Briley." Thorin managed to speak against her lips. His voice was even thicker than usual. "We must not carry this out here. We do not want to wake the others." Gently, he pulled away and glanced around. "Follow me."

_What am I doing?_

He looked back and saw Briley clinging tight to his hand as he led her away from the clearing, the sleeping dwarves, and the moonlight. He looked back on Gandalf, unmoving against the tree – sleeping? Or had he heard the entire conversation? Thorin wouldn't have been surprised.

When they finally had a place to themselves, no words were needed.

Briley decided not to wait. She peeled the shirt and breast band from her torso, dropping both pieces of clothing onto the grass beside her. Thorin watched as her fingers went to unlatch her belt and slide it from the belt loops of her pants; her pants, underwear, and boots came next, settling on the ground, and she stepped from them and up to him, beaming. "Your turn."

Thorin could barely move. His normally hardened gaze had spiraled into a lecherous stare with every clothing item removed. It was his turn. Slowly, his hands – hands that were trying to reach for her instead – began stripping his strapping dwarf body of clothes and armor. He decided to leave his sword nearby, just in case something happened, but everything else joined Briley's clothes in a pile.

Soon, Thorin's head of black hair and Briley's mane of red stood out against their pale bodies. Even without their boots, they were about the same height; Thorin could peer straight across the way and find her brown eyes in an instant.

It relieved him.

Instead of kissing her on the lips, as she most likely assumed he would, Thorin felt an urge to press his lips somewhere else. At last, to satisfy her earlier inquiry, he grinned, and he dug his mouth into her neck, suckling gently.

"You s-smiled! And your beard tickles," Briley gritted, giggling. Her hands dove to slide through his hair. "M-More, _please_."

How long had it been since Thorin had ravished a female like this? Decades… perhaps even a century? He was 195 years old, and he could barely remember the _face_ of his last flame – and she had been a dwarf, with thick fingers and stubble on her chin. Briley was human; Briley had soft skin and no facial hair; she had curved hips and breasts that were perfect handfuls, and her hair was wild and blood-red. He could ignore the patches of dirt left from their travels. In his eyes, she was flawless, and that meant everything to the prince.

_Absolutely everything._

They became a moaning mess when Thorin pressed her back into the grass. His tongue had regained its knowledge of pleasing a member of the opposite sex – it danced and weaved across the dip of her stomach and the points of her nipples. With palms shoved beside her head, trapping her in, he braced himself and pleased her the only way he knew how: more kisses. Soon, he had her writhing beneath him, wailing, mewling whenever his tongue found a new spot to taste.

And she, too, reciprocated beautifully when he drove himself inside her. She followed each grind with a buck of her hips, now close to screaming, repeating his name over and over and letting it transform from a name into a loving, desperate mantra. She knew their foreplay had been short because of their proximity to their sleeping companions, and for their sake, she did her best to keep quiet, but _oh,_ the way he was kissing her, the way the strokes slammed into her core… there was no such thing as coherency for those few flawless moments.

It was convenient that both dwarf and human ended together. As Thorin bellowed her name, Briley bit his collarbone to hide her own guttural roar. The pleasure center had been hit; they were falling, falling back to each other, falling back into the forest, falling back to Middle Earth.

Thorin, panting, heaved a sigh.

"Thank you."

They stayed like that for a good long while, unmoving, but completely aware of the sweat and the smile of the other.

Overhead, a few birds chirped.

"How is it possible?" Thorin murmured against her chest. "How is it possible for the rest of the world to have continued during those moments?"

Briley kissed the top of his head, noticing his smile.

"Everything is just like we left it," she replied softly. "Perfect."

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**A/N: **This was written for my lovely sister because she is officially addicted to Thorin. It's kind of like a gift to her. So please don't take this and be all "This is so unrealistic" or whatnot because it's a gift. I know it's Mary Sue-ish, but it's for her, and I'd do anything for my sister! She wanted a steamy Thorin/OC and that's what I gave her! Mwahaha!


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